


Poetry collection

by lepennell



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:22:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28660164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lepennell/pseuds/lepennell





	1. The Art of Caring Too Much

How does one let it be known that they care?  
How do you tell them, with or without words,  
That you care.  
Is it with laughter,  
The sound of it filling a room.  
Is it with touch,  
A reassuring hug, a soft kiss, a steadying hand on a quivering shoulder.  
Is it with words,  
Telling them outright or in riddles.  
Is it actions?  
Remembering the little things,  
the way they like their coffee, things they’ve said in passing.  
How do you tell them without pushing them away,  
Because you always did care too much,  
Your heart loving too hard and strong for them.  
Your brain occupied by thoughts of them,  
Your soul reaching for them.  
Your constant chatter to them,  
for you just want to show what you love.  
Your desperate voice as you ache to keep the conversation going, if only to hear their voice.  
How does one care the right amount,  
Because you always did care too much.


	2. Womanhood

Why the hell do I   
instinctively reach   
For the mace in my bag  
When I see the same man   
More than once

And why the hell do I  
Constantly have to worry  
About who’s around me   
And what it’s sounding  
Like when I talk  
For god forbid he would get the wrong idea 

And why the hell do I  
Have to constantly watch my drink  
And watch my car   
And watch my surroundings  
For a man could come up and take me and my body  
Which doesn’t belong to me anymore

Why the hell do I   
Have to argue for my right to use my own body 

And why the hell do I  
Have to defend my actions to men   
For god forbid I upset them

And why the hell do I  
Not get to wear what I want  
For they will get the wrong idea

And why the hell   
does the way I dress  
Imply consent 

And why the hell is it  
That when a survivor comes forward   
She is ridiculed  
And is lying

And why the hell do I  
Not learn anything in Health class  
Because god forbid women know   
About our beautiful bodies  
Which create life effortlessly 

And why the hell are we not allowed to talk about it  
Because periods are nasty

Yet the media sells the image of women as toys for men to use and have  
We are not objects  
Or less than  
Or nasty  
We create life  
And we should be treated with the respect   
That you would give a father

Why the hell   
Is being a woman  
So damn difficult


	3. The sun and moon.

She is unobtainable.  
but that does not stop the ache I feel   
at the thought of what could have been.  
She is the moon, me the sun.   
She is my opposite,  
the missing piece.  
The universe watches, and laughs.  
It sees me, watching my moon.  
For however perfect we are,  
the sun and moon are to never meet,  
only orbit from a distance.


	4. The child of the universe.

I am a child of space and time,  
my soul everchanging.  
The stars smile on me,  
the galaxy winks.  
The sun illuminates me,  
the moon loves me,  
the earth nurtures me.  
They watch me grow,  
a child of the universe.  
I learn of heartache,  
of euphoria.  
The universe watches on,  
fond of their creation.


	5. Our Puzzle

It seems impossible that I should end up with anyone but her.  
For who else could complete me like this,  
challenge me to be better.  
She makes me want to be better.  
Who else could do that?  
It seems we are two halves of a whole,  
and to end up with anyone but each other  
would leave our puzzle incomplete.


	6. The two of us

the world did not seem wide enough for the two of us,  
our souls larger than life,  
brighter than the sun.  
we were both too smart,  
constantly engaged in a battle of wits,  
our brains running a mile a minute, the cog turning.  
we were too beautiful,  
our hair creating halos,  
our smooth skin and eyes with galaxies inside.  
and we both loved too hard,  
our hearts beating only for that one person.  
so it only seemed fair that one should go,  
for how could it be possible for two creatures like us to exist at the same time?


	7. The painter

she paints a picture with her words,  
using greens to describe the day,  
blues the feeling.  
certain colors describe certain people,  
when paired with the right brush.  
she chooses her words deliberately,  
as if she is choosing a color.  
some colors do not mix,  
though she tries time and again.  
she paints her love out,  
using shades of blue, purple, and pink.  
she mixes them,  
as love is many feelings and people.  
she dips and begins,  
her paintbrush lightly stroking the canvas.  
she creates a masterpiece,  
for anything less would be unacceptable to the beauty she experiences.


	8. Your voice

I could listen to your voice for the rest of my life.  
the slight catch on certain letters,  
the slant in your voice.  
your voice is a melting pot,  
but why would I expect different?  
you never were one to blend in.


	9. Resources

i do not deserve to take up this space,  
for I am not worth it.  
I am severely average,  
and to take up so much air and water feels wrong.  
Why waste these precious resources on me?  
give them to the girls who look like goddesses,  
with voices of honey and love.  
give them to the boys with hearts of gold,  
their souls made of kindness and gold.  
give them to those in the middle,  
their beauty unique, their kindness never ending.  
do not waste your precious resources on me.


	10. Dandelion Friend

how could someone like you  
be drawn to someone like me?  
everything you do is magic  
the way you speak,  
your smile.  
I am not magic.  
my voice is dull,  
my smile void of spark.  
I am completely and utterly average.  
how could someone like you  
like someone like me?  
you could have the moon and stars  
but you chose me,  
a small garden flower.   
I do not know why you chose me,  
but I am glad you did.  
love,  
your dandelion friend.


End file.
